


Mask

by hoestreet



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017), Riverdale (TV 2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Drabble, F/M, Hurt Jughead Jones, Protective Jughead Jones, Veronica Lodge Needs a Hug, a lil bit, a lil bit too, but in a backwards ways, pauper jughead, shes just full of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:29:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoestreet/pseuds/hoestreet
Summary: Why did this stupid, homeless villager think he could sit in Veronica's courtyard and tell her about herself, as if he was someone important.And why was it that his mental analysis of her emotional turmoil was always right?She hated audacious, valiant individuals, especially when their name was Jughead.
Relationships: Jughead Jones & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Jeronica Nation](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Jeronica+Nation).



She pushed open the door, marching out in exasperation. Her dad was really paltering with her today and for some reason unbeknownst to her, her fuse was a lot shorter than the usual.

"Why princess, so we meet again. Just as I promised."

She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. Another nonentity on the castle grounds trying their hardest to crack her resolve. Just, this particular soul seemed to stick with her more than her conscience.

"Alas, pauper, this was not by choice. As it never is."

She could feel his smirk warm on her skin without even having to look at him as he sat there in the shadows. Sometimes she really wished her parents would drop their caring front and permanently shut the front gates from the public. The finality in her tone of voice seemed to work on every soul but one.

"So, by that you mean your Daddy issues have drowned you yet again? My Highness, this must be a new record, your calm aura allowed you to reach to the great heights of two days before he got under your skin yet again. I was almost starting to get worried, I thought you may have been ill." She knew his smirk was widening and she clenched her fists.

"My father has done nothing of the sort," she hissed.

"Oh hmm, I am sure," he continued to goad, chuckling quietly to himself.

Her eyes narrowed and she spun around to look at him properly for the first time that night. Not like he'd changed. In the seven months he'd been taking up refuge in the Grand Courtyard, the only changes to his face were the placement of bruises he always seemed to obtain. The same smirk was always there. As was the same glint in his eye. She couldn't believe someone homeless could possibly have so much intolerable arrogance.

"Just saying, freedom has a sweet aftertaste. You should try it sometime."

"Freedom?" she scoffed. "What are you free from? The confines of a warm house? Roof over your head?"

"My roof is the stars, your dearest heiress. The most beautiful." His eyes turned to hers, paired with an expression that was gone before Veronica could decipher it. "Almost, the most beautiful. My father taught me to always tell the truth."

"Oh did he now?"

"Oh yes." He nodded and pointed at the black eye he was currently sporting with a laugh. "He truthfully hates me."

Veronica genuinely didn't understand how this young man still had a smile on his face. Maybe he was sadistic, kind of got off to the fact that his dad used his as a punching bag. Or maybe he was just of the bizarre sort.

"Well, lucky me. I don't have to be a homeless victim of abuse." She leaned close to him, her expensive perfume clouding his judgement for a split second. "And that's the truth."

"Oh Miss Lodge," the boy said, laughing. "Aren't you something of a character of humour. Your tone is bragging, but your words are sad."

Veronica scoffed. "I choose my words based off sting, not off emotion."

The boy raised an eyebrow and disregarded her comment. "So a masquerade ball was it? How was that, by the way? Must have felt quite homely to you, y'know, since you intend on wearing a mask everyday anyway." He reached out to finger the feathers protruding from the side, grin widening slightly as she flinched back, and nodded. "This one is just all the more extravagant. Is it your specialty, to be an attention seeker whilst hiding so much?"

"Get your dirty hands off my peacock feathers, tramp."

"I prefer the softer term of pauper, really brings out the inner folks-tale prince in me." He winked.

"Good luck on getting your princess," Veronica shot back.

He laughed. It was loud and hearty and Veronica found herself slightly jealous that the broken looking boy was even capable of making such a joyous sound. "As I previously stated, your tone is bragging but your words are sad. And I bet underneath that mask, your face is too."

"This mask only hides half of my face."

"And I'm sure you know exactly which mask I'm referring to." Her eyes narrowed and his followed suit, squinting at her in the poor lighting of the night. Only one side of her face was illuminated, and it glowed a dull, comforting orange from the flame that hung on the wall; even that glow didn't make the established woman in front of him appear any warmer though. She was the personalised version of ice.

She shifted in irritation. She just wanted to go back inside, but part of her didn't want her Father to think she'd given into his words so soon and part of her was intrigued by this man and wanted to hear more of his wise words, no matter how much she positively loathed them. This unconventional half friendship was the only thing that made her feel anything other than utter frustration. At least he broadened the limits to that of annoyance and irritation as well.

"Your crystal ball id wrong," she said softly with the fakest of smiles she could muster.

"Of course it is. I couldn't spot daddy issues from half a meter away if it spat in my right eye and called me a dodger." The sarcasm was laid on thick, not just in his words, but in thee way he held himself. He was leaning forward slightly, as if excited for retaliation, and Veronica just wanted to knock his head back into the last century.

"I haven't got daddy issues," she spat.

He shrugged. "Your mask can't hide you from the many things I've already seen from my temporary home in your castle walls, Miss Lodge." He paused slightly to give her the chance to say something but she didn't take up on his offer. "I learnt the hard way. Still learning." He pointed at his face again.

"Daddy doesn't hit me," she said with disgust. "You know nothing about me."

"He doesn't hit you," he repeated, almost solemn. "But he hurts you. Am I right?"

Veronica didn't say anything for a while, just stood with her back half turned to him. He didn't try and move, didn't get up, didn't even say anything. He just let his words sink in for a couple minutes.

"No." she said finally. "He doesn't. He's just a plague-sore. Aggravating to the core."

"Corrupting the royal Lodge blood?"

"No." She sighed a little. "That's been a long-standing statement." She crouched in front of the man again, who looked at her in the eye without a moments hesitation and the vague expression of amusement on his face. "A lot of people in this kingdom hate us. They make up rumours. About gangs and how Daddy's a tyrant. They're all wrong. It's jealousy. And that's all I can sense from your filthy bones."

"And so that must be the reason you insist on wearing a mask," came his uninterested voice. Though uninterested it was, it still stabbed her in the same wound that refused to heal. She rose, swallowing thickly. She hated how a beggar could literally see right through her."

"It's masquerade, you loon."

"Yes. You understand what I'm talking about very well."

She just rolled her eyes.

"Maybe all that rich education they cooked up for you in the palace of wonders didn't actually do as much as your parents sincerely hoped." He shrugged. "Peak really."

"Coming from the man who is sleeping in my gutter."

"He chuckled. "Under the stars," he added with the wag of a finger and boyish grin. "Free from everything everyone else is running from."

"Be a dear and remind me why your little homeless self is trying to read my tarot cards? I have no spare change, if that's what your slippery little hands are after."

"Not one dime in all those expensively woven pockets? Wow,, Daddy must be getting real stringent with his copper." He snorted, hand on his chest and eyebrows raised as if he was surprised. She just glared at him. "Bitterness is nothing but another mask, my fair lady."

She took a long, deep breath in and rolled her eyes, hard. "Are you really out here every night? Is there nowhere else you can go?"

If you may, pray do suggest another area in this blessed village that provides me with a free roof."

"I was under the impression that the stars are your roof." She has her hands on her hips and the man watched her in amusement, purposeful movements and strong expressions.

"Rather unorthodox in the rainy seasons, Miss Lodge."

"I would happily buy you a palace if you stopped trying to read me like one of your little books."

"If that weren't an empty statement, I may've been tempted, but the pleasure of getting under your skin fills me with just too much pleasure, and you are by far the most interesting, riveting read I've had." He shook his head, smirk making a comeback on his face. "The plot twists lurk around every corner with you. And we've already established the fact that your Daddy gives you no pocket money."

"You are the one lurking around every corner."

"I only lurk behind one, and I am very content doing so. I merely broke free, your Highness. Please do enlighten me, when do you plan on doing the same?"

"So we're back here."

He grinned and took off his woolen hat to ruffle his hair. "But of course. It is the most pressing question. It's one thing to let you get aggravated at the pauper taking up refuge in your courtyard, but it's another for said pauper to be able to smell the problems at home stronger than the piss bucket in your bedroom."

"I've had enough of you."

He laughed, loud and hearty again. "You'll be back. My guess is, five and a half hours. At the crack of dawn, right with the roosters."

She spun around and shot him the finger, and that made him laugh more.

Just before she reached the door, he called something out, and she'd be damned if she admitted that the beggar's words actually stuck in her mind for more than a week.

"You can't hide under that plastic mould forever princess. The masquerade ball only lasts for the night."

She was back in just under four.

**Author's Note:**

> Another drabble I renovated and added onto ao3 so it doesn't get lost in my tumblr tags. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> My grammar is a lil off in this I know, and my information might be too,, but im not a history student lmaooo and when i was all i learnt was ww2 so dont come at me too harsh me if things dont make sense. it's not one of my best works and i'm confident in that knowledge.
> 
> And if you have any drabble ideas that you wanna see me write, drop a comment down below or shoot me an ask on my tumblr - thestanhoe xx


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